The Summer the World Ended (16 page)

“Mom looked at me like she didn’t know where she was. Like she was begging me for help and then she was just… gone.” Diversion or no, closing the faucet was harder than she expected.

He looked like he wanted to reach out and offer a consoling arm, but kept a professional distance. “I hope she didn’t suffer.”

“They told me she didn’t.” Riley took a few breaths and accepted the basket back. “It could be worse, I suppose. Dad left when I was little. I always thought he didn’t want us anymore, but that wasn’t true.”
Will he ever trust me with why?

Sergeant Rodriguez followed her to the only checkout lane, where a pudgy, grandmotherly woman waited, engrossed in a tabloid. Despite having one jar of jelly, and her a full basket, he let her go first. She set the basket down and set to unpacking it. The woman grabbed the items as they came down the belt and scanned them.

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” He put the jelly on the end of the lane.

Beep.

“His work pulled him out here. Mom didn’t wanna leave Jersey. They like, still loved each other and stuff but… I dunno.”

Beep. Beep.

The cashier clucked her tongue, muttering in Spanish.

He mumbled something back that sounded chiding. “She says you’ve got some bad luck.”

“Yeah. Well, it could be worse. I could be stuck in that shelter, or in one of those foster places you keep seeing on the news where they lock the kids in their rooms and beat them.” Riley shivered. There was a thought that had caused at least one sleepless night.

Beep.

He grumbled in Spanish. The cashier made a remark at him with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled. She pointed at the girl and raised the other eyebrow.

“I told her it was rude to speak Spanish around someone who doesn’t understand it.”

The cashier nodded.
Beep.

She bit her lip at the register screen, the total approached $60 faster than she expected. “And then you did the same thing.”

“I was just cursing.” He smiled. “People who do that to kids they are supposed to be helping… there’s a reserved level of Hell for them.”

Beep.

“Sixty four thirty nine,” said the sales clerk.

Riley looked over the groceries. “I gotta put something back. I’ve only got $60.”

“Add the $4.39 to mine,” said Sergeant Rodriguez.

“That’s so nice of you, but I can’t take your money.” She rummaged through her choices, looking for something unnecessary. Bad enough he should be detaining her for illegal driving, taking money from him seemed like a whole other level of wrong. Her fingers paused on one item after another. She hadn’t grabbed a single item of ‘fluff,’ and couldn’t make up her mind what to ditch.

“I insist. It’s only four bucks. Sounds like you’ve had it rough lately, about time you caught a break.”

She stared up at him. No way in hell would anyone in New Jersey be that nice. Heck, people would just as soon run her over if she took four seconds too long crossing the street. Unable to process what was happening, she leaned on to the chrome ridge of the checkout lane and cried.
I’m crying over $4. What the hell is wrong with me?

Thinking of Mom earlier had been an attempt to distract him from the ‘why is a fourteen year old here without her father’ question that would lead to a chain reaction of bad things. Her initial fear of being arrested had waned―this man seemed too nice. The more she looked at him, the more she figured he’d probably drive her home and give Dad a ticket. Her encounter with a cop had gone as far in the opposite direction of expectation as possible. His token gesture left her flummoxed.

“Thank you.” She sniffled and blushed, almost blurting ‘guess Dad was wrong about cops,’ but bit her tongue.

Sergeant Rodriguez gave her a pat on the back.

“Are you alright, child?” asked the cashier.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay. It’s weird having people I’ve just met be so nice to me.”

Riley gathered her bags from the end of the checkout counter and headed for the door before anyone thought to ask about Dad.

ora’s approach and additional prodding comment that Rodriguez should go out to Dad’s house to do a ‘wellness check’ set off a three-way argument in Spanish between the cop, the cashier, and the busybody. Riley couldn’t follow it, and didn’t wait to see how it ended. She turned to butt-bump the door open and slipped outside amid the jangle of small bells. A thermometer sign in the store’s window called the temperature ninety-two degrees, but in the dry air, it didn’t feel as bad as it sounded. After so long by a meat cooler, the warmth felt rather nice.

She squinted at the little town, momentarily captivated by the journey of a tumbleweed in the distance. Three men walking by gave her the ‘hmm, that’s an outsider’ stare, though they seemed markedly less hostile than the looks the locals gave them when she rode with Dad. Just in case, Riley flashed an ‘I’m not really about to break the law again’ smile.

The police car parked ten steps from the door made her pause. Rodriguez would see her drive away from here. She decided to stand there and act as if she waited on a ride, hoping he’d leave and not think anything was up. Once he was out of sight, she’d make a break for the truck. A glance back at the store confirmed the argument in full swing. Cora looked upset.

Guess they’re ganging up on her.
She swayed side to side.
Crap, what if he wants to wait with me.

She took a step in the direction of where she parked, but froze at a voice behind her.

“Hey, Riley. Whatcha doing?”

Kieran.
“Uh, hi.” She spun around, blinking at a full-sized shopping cart full of lettuce. “Waiting for my Dad. Whoa, that’s a lot of greens. What kind of crazy diet are you on?”

“Funny. It’s for the restaurant.” He glanced at the cop inside and lowered his voice. “That man don’t come to town. ‘Sides, I saw you drive past Tommy’s. Didn’t know you had a license.”

“I don’t.” She widened her eyes at him. “Please don’t tell anyone. All he had in the house is SpaghettiOs. Both cabinets full of them. Hundreds of cans.”

“No wonder you made those faces while eating Mom’s cooking.” He winked. “You’re welcome to come back any time you want.”

“Uh.” She looked away in a hurry. “Yeah… Dad’s not a big fan of town, and I’m not sure I’m going to have the balls to drive again until I’m old enough. I’m like the ‘never does anything wrong’ girl.”

“You do look like you’re about to pass out.” He gestured at the bag. “Need a hand with them?”

“I got it. Thanks… besides you’ve got like, a caravan of lettuce there.”
Oh, can you sound more like an idiot?
Riley’s already cop-terrified stomach collapsed with the gravity of a black hole, crushing the enormous butterfly inside.

“Officer Rod’s a bit sneaky, isn’t he? Bet you never saw him coming.”

She gulped. “I, uh, didn’t think this place had cops.”

Kieran gazed up at the clouds, and Riley snuck a peek at his waist-length hair drifting in the breeze. He still had on the same plain white tee he’d been wearing at the restaurant. She recognized the stain pattern. Dull jingling announced the door behind them opening. Sergeant Rodriguez ambled out and wandered over to them.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Trujillo.”

“Sergeant.” Kieran nodded at him.

“Folks doin’ okay?”

“Yes, sir,” said Kieran. “Oh, Dad thinks he’s come up with some salsa too hot for you.”

“We’ll see about that.” Sergeant Rodriguez winked. “Tell him we’ll be by Friday night.”

Kieran grinned. “Sure thing, sir.”

Sergeant Rodriguez gave Riley a shoulder squeeze and walked around them to his patrol car.

The cop seems to like him… guess he’s not part of ‘that element.’

“Yep. We’ve got cops. Three of ‘em. Rodriguez is like the chief. Then you got Officer Lawson, white boy from Albuquerque, and Officer Roma. I think they’re officially part of the T or C police, but they got stuck out here.”

Riley giggled. “A cop named Lawson?”

Kieran smiled. “You’ve got a cute laugh.”

She thought Dad talking about sex in the restaurant had been embarrassing. His remark made her blush harder. “Uh…”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Um.” She looked at the bags. “I’ve got chicken. I shouldn’t stand out in the heat.”

The police car backed up and drove off.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“It’s not you.” She snapped her head around to look up at him. “I really have chicken.”

Kieran smiled. “You wanna hang out sometime? I could give you the five minute tour of the town.” He pointed at a ‘78 Trans Am in electric blue, complete with an airbrushed phoenix on the hood.

Aside from the car, the scenery was far from impressive. Dusty buildings, houses that looked like trailers without wheels ready to fall over in a stiff breeze, tumbleweeds, and a bunch of squinty-eyed suspicious people who didn’t seem to like her. “So, what’s in Las Cerezas to see?”

“Honest? Not much. It’s pretty boring. Most everyone here calls this place La Cerveza.”

“Doesn’t that mean beer?” She tilted her head, squinting at the sun behind his head.

“Yeah. The only thing to do here is drink… or restore old cars.”

“You did that?”

“Yep.” He grinned. “Been working on it since I was twelve. Course, I had the engine done by pros, but everything else was me.”

“Nice.”

“Okay, I had the paint done by a shop too.” He glanced back and forth between her and the car three times. “You’re not that impressed by cars, are you?”

“Not really.”

“I’m not a gearhead, really… it’s just something to do, ya know? Not like I’ve got my heart set on growing up to be a waiter.”

Her laugh trailed off to a somber stare. “Yeah, I didn’t exactly want to get stuck in the middle of the desert either. What do you wanna do?”

“I’m gonna go to school, probably UNM. Electrical or aerospace engineering.”

“Wow. So you’re like a senior or something?”

He chuckled. “No, I just sound like one. Gonna be a junior next year, I’m sixteen.”

“Aren’t your friends gonna tease you for hitting on a freshman?”

“Nah, two year difference is no big. So, you wanna hang out? Tomorrow?”

Cold, clammy plastic brushed her thigh. “Uh, yeah, sure, fine. I gotta go before Dad sends the CIA after me.”

“Okay. See you later.”

Riley watched him go to his car, catching herself admiring him a little too much.
He thinks I’m joking about the CIA.